Old Photographs by Sherie Posesorski

Old Photographs by Sherie Posesorski

Author:Sherie Posesorski
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV000000
Publisher: Second Story Press
Published: 2009-10-01T00:00:00+00:00


chapter thirteen

Everyone was on their best behavior. That meant that Grandy, Aunt Debbie, Mom, Greg, and I were – in person – as stiff, formal and unnatural as the Creighton family portraits Greg was showing off like a museum curator.

“My, my,” Grandy said, with strained politeness. “Now that’s a picture. She’d uttered a variation of that at every photo on the tour. Grandy had been relaxed at first, when we’d greeted each other in the front hallway. She’d dressed up in a pale yellow linen pantsuit. Her hair had been permed and cut, and she was even wearing lipstick and eye shadow. To me she looked wonderful, the pale yellow of her suit accenting her tan and freckles.

“Mother, don’t you ever wear sunblock?” my mother asked almost immediately. She studied Grandy’s face as though it were one big map of lines, creases, and brown spots. So what if it was? That was Grandy. If looking her age didn’t bother Grandy, why should it bother my mother?

Mom was super conscious about keeping her skin snow white and unwrinkled. She always sat in the shade, wearing a high SPF sunblock and a huge hat.

‘Yes I do, Ava, and a wide-brimmed hat too,” she said, barely swallowing a sigh. “You know I love being outside as much as I can. I’d have to wear a suit of armor not to get tanned. Or sit in the house all day.”

I saw Greg open his mouth. I hoped he wasn’t going to give Grandy the same lecture he’d given me earlier this summer about skin cancer and how to recognize a mole that had turned cancerous. He’d even shared his medical text with photographs of cancerous moles. That had been a fun bonding exercise.

He meant well. But I liked being outside in the summer as much as Grandy did. Although I painted myself with all the various sunblocks Mom bought me for my face, lips, and body, I was nearly as tanned as Grandy.

Before Greg could lead us to the next grouping of family portraits, I grasped Grandy’s hand and asked, “Can I show Grandy my new bike now?”

“Later,” my mother said. “There are still some portraits we haven’t seen yet.”

“More photos,” Aunt Debbie said, almost sighing.

She took one foot out of a sandal and wiggled her toes. Aunt Debbie was dressed up too. She was wearing cropped black pants, a sleeveless striped shirt and black wedge sandals. Her dark brown hair was short and curly like Grandy’s, but it was naturally curly, and, she moaned, becoming naturally gray too.

Leaning close to me, she whispered, “If I had known I was going to be on a guided tour, I would have worn flats.”

“It’s almost over,” I whispered back. “Only a few portraits to go.”

She nodded wearily. “Not that I don’t want to look at you, and Elspeth’s a cutie, but…”

“My favorite,” Greg said, stopping before the largest portrait. There we were in the middle of a spectacular garden with miniature Japanese maples on one side and a blossoming magnolia tree on the other.



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